Yeah, this is another DDD - Dead Dog Diary. What can I say? I know this has been experienced by probably most of the members in this community, but each one is special, and it helps to work through the sadness.
So, indulge me..
I was 50 years old before I got my first dog. I was never a big dog person--most of my experiences with dogs were less than pleasant as I was out running or cycling. It took two years after I married my current wife before she and the kids talked me into it. I resisted partly because I knew who would end up taking care of the puppy. But I finally gave in and decided if I was going to to this, I would go all the way. So I studied up on how to care for a new dog and accepted him with open arms.
Now I am coming home to an empty house.
He was born on New Years Day 2003, came home with us in March, a white bundle of fur with a chunky nose and huge brown eyes. We called him Dylan and he was a purebred golden retriever. He sniffed around his new home and settled in. We took up the carpets in part of the house and closed it off so he could learn "self control" without the anxiety of a lot of household accidents. We explored the bike paths around our neighborhood and bonded the way humans and animals do. In his eyes, I became the Big Dog, the who was respected, while my wife got more of the affection--maybe he was trying to take my spot, we never figured it out.
Now I am coming home to an empty house.
We wanted our dog to be polite and well-mannered. We also wanted him to have socialization, so we enrolled him in puppy training classes--and learned the power of a liver treat. . The dogs received "points" for how well they performed. In every class, Dylan won "top dog" honors. Even more than most Goldens, Dylan was a people person. His favorite place in the world was our local dog park--not because of the dogs, but the people. Dylan would run from person to person, plop down in front of them and nudge them to pet him--he could do it all day. When it was time to leave, he would sometimes run off when he knew we were heading for the exit gate and head over to another group of people, where he would invite himself to stay even longer. He never failed to put a smile on everyone's face with his love and enthusiasm.
Now I am coming home to an empty house.
Like most Goldens, he had a voracious appetite. No food was safe from the "table shark" as he circled, waiting for a lapse in attention. On a number of occasions, we would mistakenly leave a casserole, sheet cake, etc, too close to the kitchen counter, only to come in later and find an empty platter and a happy dog with incriminating evidence on his lips. He was nicknamed "Dylan the Villain" for his stealth tactics. Goldens are also big time chewers and so there were always socks, shoes and toys strewn about. But we won't have to worry about the food now and the socks will be left undisturbed--
Now I am coming home to an empty house.
As everyone knows, one of the joys of having a dog is having a companion that accepts you uncritically--just the way you are. Goldens need to be with people, so he would follow you around, lying underfoot when you were on the couch, or next to my chair in my office; when I first got my stairclimber, he would curl himself around the bottom of the machine while I was exercising. When I came home, he was always there, looking out the window after hearing the car, then running to "retrieve" something--anything--to bring me as I walked through the door. This morning was different--this morning I came home to an empty house.
Dylan was born with a heart defect. It was discovered when he was 1 year old. At the time, the doctors said they did not think it would affect his quality of life or longevity, but they couldn't be sure. We tried to keep an eye on things, but the only way to be sure of the progress would be with a lot of expensive tests, and sometimes you have to choose things like keeping your house and sending the kids to college over expensive medical tests for a dog. In the last few months, Dylan started having episodes of increased lethargy. We would take him to the vet, but they could not detect any new signs -- even a chest xray back in January was normal. And, after a few days he would bounce back and be his normal self--maybe it was just an allergy, or something he ate, or just normal behavior for an 8 1/2 year old dog. I took him to the vet last Friday because he seemed more out of it, but, again, nothing could be detected. Last night, he seemed OK. In the middle of the night, he became restless, so I took him out of bed and went to sleep downstairs. At around 6 am we found him lying on the stairway landing and he had vomited some blood on the carpet. As we got him up to see how he was doing, he collapsed and fell down the last 3 stairs to the floor. The vets office opens at 7:30 am. We suspected the worst and decided to wait to take him there rather than to an ER full of strangers. We wanted him to be in a place he enjoyed (he always loved going to the vet and the people there loved him), surrounded by those who loved him. We got some blankets and carried him to the car. At the vets, the doc confirmed our worst fears and said he was in bad shape. I asked them to run one more blood test--I knew deep down where this was going, but I thought some evidence would help me to closure and also give us some more time. Dylan had been in the back rooms during his exam. When they brought him back to our waiting room after 30 min, he had deteriorated even further--it was a shock. He barely held on long enough for us to say our final goodbyes and passed on peacefully in our arms.
In the end, his heart was just too big and too full of love to last. I am trying to remember the good times and to find a smile through the tears, but right now, it is so painful...
Coming home to an empty house.
Goodbye, my buddy.